When I Was a Child I Played in a Castle Made of Light
I was seven years old when I first saw the man with the red eyes. Of course, he wasn’t really a man; not a whole one anyway. He was just a head, floating in midair, gaunt and terrifying, certainly in the eyes of a small boy. I ran screaming to my mother, who immediately put me in therapy for seeing hallucinations. My parents fought a lot back then. There was always lots of yelling and sometimes, things got violent. I remember hiding in my room trying to ignore the shouts and the thumps while playing with my toys. I often disappeared into fantasy worlds so rich and deep that I sometimes wasn’t sure where they ended and the real world began. I would spend hours in worlds inhabited by my favorite characters and, as might be expected of any young boy, somehow my adventures in these worlds always saw me as the central character and hero of the story. My therapist thought that the man with the red eyes was a psychological manifestation of my fear of authority since my main role models frightened me so much with their fighting. Unlike my parents, however, the man with the red eyes never yelled. He never threatened me. He never actually said anything at all. He just looked at me with those red eyes whenever he decided to appear, quietly observing me. As time went on and he never tried to hurt me, I could almost start to ignore him; or at least pretend he wasn’t there. Sometimes he watched me for only a few moments before disappearing. Other times he stayed and observed for hours. No one else ever saw him, even when I would point him out. I suppose you’d like to know a bit more of what he looked like. The man, or what there was of him, had a pale, narrow face with sharp cheek bones and gray hair that was slicked back in a style that was popular in the 1950’s. He looked like a severe sort of grandfather. One day, I was playing with my toys, occupying one of my fantasy worlds when out of the corner of my eye, I saw him. I don’t know how long he had been there, but he had been appearing for so long by this point that I was no longer as frightened of him as I once was. Don’t get me wrong, he was still creepy, but he didn’t inspire the absolute terror as he had in the beginning. Taking a chance, I decided to actually try and speak to him. “Hello,” I said timidly. I was a timid boy by nature. Talking to regular people was difficult for me. Talking to disembodied heads with red eyes was just about as difficult as anything could be. He didn’t answer. “My name is Jacob. What’s your name?” Nothing. I was starting to get a little annoyed. This thing had interrupted my life for how many months now, showed up whenever it wanted, and the one time I worked up the courage to speak to it, it wouldn’t even bother to answer back. “Why do you come here if you aren’t going to say anything?” The man with the red eyes did something then I had never seen him do before. He smiled. It wasn’t really a comforting sight; the smile was thin and eerie, almost as if he wasn’t sure how it was supposed to be done. Still, he didn’t say a word. “Why do you come here and scare me?” I asked him. “That isn’t very nice. I never did anything to you. You shouldn’t scare people.” To this day I’m unsure what made me grow so bold. I can only say that over the seven months or so that the man had been appearing to me, he had never actually done anything to harm me. It was only his appearance and the fact that he was there that caused my alarm. I guess I had simply grown used to him, even if I didn’t exactly like him. For the next few weeks the man was a constant presence when I would play. He even appeared at school. Before, he would only appear periodically and only in my room. Ever since I spoke to him though, he was always there. Always watching. Always smiling that thin smile of his. I started speaking to him more and more. He never responded but sometimes I got the impression that he wanted to. I started to incorporate him into my fantasy worlds. At first, he would be the villain that we would have to defeat. But sometimes, he would be a character I made up called The Eternal. The Eternal was a godlike figure in my worlds that watched over everything and helped the heroes when they were down. He seemed to like it when I portrayed him that way. His smile seemed the most genuine when he was cast as The Eternal. One day, during a particularly bad fight between my parents that saw me get my lip busted open by my dad, I ran to my room and locked the door behind me. The man was there, floating just below the ceiling as usual. I was crying and trying to wipe away the blood from where my dad had hit me. I looked up at him with tears in my eyes and begged him to make them stop fighting. “I can’t do that Jacob.” I nearly jumped out of my skin. He actually spoke. More than half a year of visitations without a single word, and at last he finally said something. I was struck by his voice. It had a peculiar sort of cadence. It was soft and leathery; smooth the way a man’s face is after a fresh shave, only verbalized. Yet, despite its softness, there was a gravity to it that bespoke wisdom; wisdom beyond the understanding of a little boy for sure. Had he been an actual man instead of a floating head I might have even found it comforting. “Why not?” I asked sullenly. “Aren’t you some kind of magic man?” He had to be. Regular people couldn’t just float in midair and pop in and out of existence like he did. The man with the red eyes looked at me with a look I recognized. It was a look I was well practiced at displaying. He looked at me with sadness. “I can’t stop anyone from being what they are. All I can do is watch…. And take you. But only if you ask it of me.” I didn’t understand. “Why don’t you ever talk?” “I am talking now.” He was being difficult. A talking head was being difficult. “Why haven’t you ever talked before?” He smiled at me. It seemed more like a proper smile this time. Like he had finally learned how to do it right. “You wouldn’t have been able to understand me before. And even when you could, my voice would have scared you. I am not like you, Jacob.” “Your voice doesn’t scare me now,” I pointed out sagely. “Because you are ready now,” he said simply. “Ready for what?” “To go. If you choose to.” I was confused. “Go where?” “Home.” “But I’m at home.” “My home, Jacob.” “Where do you live?” “Somewhere else.” The man was infuriating in his mastery of the non-answer. I scowled at him and folded my arms. “Are you a ghost?” That seemed the most logical explanation to me. He smiled again. “No. I am The Eternal.” This time I actually smiled. “Not-uh. I only made that up. That’s only for the stories.” “This is your story, Jacob. This is all about you. And I enjoy when I get to be The Eternal. It’s better than being the enemy.” Somehow, I had ended up having a conversation with the strange floating head that inhabited my nightmares for months and I was actually starting to enjoy it. Even if he was a little confusing. “What’s your real name?” I asked him curiously. The man frowned. “That’s an interesting question,” he said to me. “I’ve been called so many things I don’t really answer to any one name anymore. What would you like to call me?” “You mean I get to choose?” The man smiled kindly. “Just as long as it’s a nice name.” I thought about it for a few minutes. It was a pretty difficult decision. My first thought was to name him something scary, but he didn’t seem all that frightening anymore. But I couldn’t name him something ordinary or silly like Bob or Rupert either. As I was looking around my room for inspiration, I spotted my huge stuffed bear Calvert propped up in the corner and suddenly it clicked. “Calvert. I’m going to name you Calvert.” It sounded good. It sounded right. He nodded slowly. “Then my name is Calvert.” We were silent for a little while. Then I asked Calvert what he wanted to do next. “There isn’t much I can do here, Jacob. I can only watch. And talk, now that you’re ready. But if you want to go with me, I can take you home.” I remembered my mom telling me I shouldn’t go anywhere with strangers. But Calvert wasn’t exactly a stranger, was he? I mean, it was the first time we had talked but he had been around for a while now. And now that he had a name, I felt like I could trust him. Still, I was a little nervous. “But where do you live?” I asked him again. “What’s it like there?” Calvert thought about it a moment. He seemed to be considering his words carefully. “I live in a very special place. I live in a castle. A castle made of light. I can take you there; but if you go, I might not be able to take you back. It’s strange. Sometimes I can, sometimes I can’t. I don’t make the rules.” That was confusing. “There are rules?” “There are always rules, Jacob. To everything.” “Who makes the rules?” “Someone else.” Calvert let me think about that for a bit. A part of me really wanted to go and see this castle made of light. It sounded wonderful; like something out of one of my stories. But I was still nervous, especially about not being able to come back. I didn’t want to be gone forever. And even though I hated my parents for fighting all the time, I knew I’d miss them eventually. I looked at Calvert carefully. “What would we do there?” I asked him. “Anything you’d like to do, Jacob. My home is yours, in more ways than one. We could do anything you’d like.” “Can we eat candy and play ball?” “If you want to, yes.” “Can we fight dragons and rescue maidens from their castles?” “If you want to.” “Can we skip school and play all day?” “We can do anything you’d like, Jacob.” “Will I get into trouble for leaving?” Calvert shook his head. Well, he shook. “You won’t get into trouble. Getting into trouble is the one thing you’ll never have to worry about again.” It was enticing. So enticing, in fact, that I decided to go for it. “Okay. I want to go.” “Are you sure, Jacob? Remember, I might not be able to bring you back. I never know in advance.” I thought about it. I thought about everything I’d be missing if I couldn’t come back. I thought about home and my mom and dad. I thought about my friends at school. But thinking about them just made me sad. They sent me into my room crying and bloody. They hurt me. Calvert never hurt me. And he felt so comforting now. And he lived in a magic castle! My choice was made. “I want to go,” I said with all the firm assurance an eight year old could muster (my birthday had passed for all of you keeping count). Calvert nodded. Then let’s go home, Jacob.” There was a flash of white and then my room was gone. All of a sudden, defying all my attempts at explanation, we were home. But not my home. Calvert’s home. His castle. His magic castle. And it was… “It’s really made of light!” I said with wonderment. It was true. I’m not…. I’m not sure how to explain this exactly. It defies the laws of physics of course but, well, now that I’m grown up, I’m not really surprised. The castle was as large as any medieval ruin, only it was whole and lively and filled with bustle and life. Its walls and floors and chandeliers sparkled with dazzling starlight. Brightness seemed to emanate from within the mortar and brick, causing every step we took to twinkle like the vastness of a million stars clustered together. Here and there different colored lights reflected off every surface. Pink, blue, red, green, purple, orange, and strange colors I had never seen before, that I couldn’t name. That I still can’t name. The corridors were humming with activity as men in courtly attire and women in beautiful, flowing gowns smiled and curtsied and welcomed me. They even called me by my name. “How do they all know me?” I asked Calvert. Only Calvert wasn’t there. Not exactly. Instead of a talking head with red eyes, at my side stood a complete man dressed in gleaming armor, a glittering sword strapped at his side. Only his face was the same; as narrow and gaunt as it always had been. “Whoah! Calvert, you have a body!” Calvert looked down and smiled. “Yes, it looks like I do. Well done.” “But I didn’t do anything,” I said in confusion. “Of course you did,” he replied. “Remember, this is your story, Jacob. Now, would you like to play with the other children?” I looked around. “There are more?” “Oh, there are many more, Jacob.” Suddenly, I spotted a group of kids near my age playing a game together. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it looked like fun. They were laughing and shouting happily. I looked up at Calvert. “Can I?” “Of course.” I won’t bore you with the details of the games we played. Some of them I recognized, others I’d never heard of. The children came from all over the world, and like the games, some had names I was familiar with, and others had names so strange I could scarcely believe it. We laughed together, chased each other, invented fantastic tales and lived out our fantasies. Calvert’s castle was a wonderland filled with everything that could ever appeal to my childhood imagination. Every now and then, a child would disappear without saying goodbye. I found it a little strange but no one else seemed bothered by it so I kept quiet. I don’t know how many days and nights I spent in Calvert’s castle. Time sort of lost meaning for me while I was there. In fact, I don’t think I ever had to sleep or go to the bathroom the entire time I was there. Eventually, Calvert came around to check on me. “Have you enjoyed your time here, Jacob?” “Oh, man, this place is amazing! You have such a cool house Calvert!” He smiled at me somewhat sadly. I didn’t pick up on it then, but I recognize it now. “I’m glad you’ve enjoyed yourself, Jacob. Unfortunately, the time has come to take you back now.” I was heart-struck. “What? No! Calvert, I don’t want to go! I like it here! It’s so fun and everyone is so nice and I feel safe! Don’t make me go back home!” “I’m sorry, Jacob. But I have to obey the rules.” “What rules?” “The rules.” “Well your rules stink!” I shouted angrily. Calvert wasn’t ruffled by my outburst. “They aren’t my rules, Jacob. But they are the rules. And rules exist for a reason. You can’t stay here. It would break the rules. And the rules can’t be broken.” I was starting to feel things I had almost forgotten about. Hurt, pain, fear, sadness. It had been so long. A year, five, fifty, a thousand. It could have been any of them. Or all. Or something else, unknowable and unobtainable. However long it had been, those feelings came rushing back in a torrent of anguish. “Please, Calvert!” I begged. “Don’t make me go back there! Don’t make me go! I don’t want to get hurt again! Please, Calvert! I don’t want to get hurt!” Calvert took my hand. The castle was already melting around me. “Your greatest hurts are behind you, Jacob. Now you must grow.” He spoke in a tone infused with the certainty of antiquity. He sounded so old and wise that I lost the stomach for argument. I hung my head in defeat. “Will you still come visit me sometimes?” Calvert patted my head. “I can only follow the rules, Jacob. But one day, our paths will cross again.” “When?” I asked earnestly. “That is your choice.” “What?” “Goodbye, Jacob.” My next conscious memory began in a bed in the children’s hospital. My mother was beside me holding my hand. My father was nowhere in sight. They told me that I had been in a coma for nearly a year. My father had been arrested for spousal and child abuse. I had received two broken ribs a cracked skull, a severe concussion, and permanent brain damage. Most of my motor functions were gone. Over the years I had to relearn how to do even the bare basics of life, including feeding and bathing myself. Although I can “walk” the sight of my attempts are unsightly and physically draining. Years have gone by and despite my mother’s attempts to help me rebuild a normal life, each day is a constant struggle. You have no idea how taxing it was even to write this. I tried to contact Calvert every day for years. The therapists said that he was a figment of my imagination. A manifestation of my subconscious during the long months spent in the coma. They tried so many different medications on me to make me forget, but I know the truth. I know that somewhere else, Calvert exists. I know he resides in a castle made of light, and that his halls are filled with the laughter of countless happy children. I’ve spent a long time thinking about Calvert’s parting words to me. He told me that one day we would meet again and that it would be my choice as to when that would be. I didn’t understand for the longest time. Years and years. But I understand now. I’ve been visited by a man with red eyes for the last few nights. He doesn’t speak. But I know why he’s here. It pretty much confirms my theory. He told me it was my choice. Why else would he come back the night I bought my gun? Category:Fanfic Category:Creepypasta